


Letters from my Son

by happilyinsane13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happilyinsane13/pseuds/happilyinsane13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco receives letters from Scorpius during his stay at Hogwarts. What he doesn't expect is having constant panic attacks at his sons's life. Gryffindor, Albus Potter... Karma is against him. And Astoria is enjoying every minute of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Karma's a Bitch

The sun was shining in the autumn sky, the light bouncing off the glistening windows of the Malfoy Mansion. Draco Malfoy, along with his wife Astoria, had left the ancient Malfoy Manor twelve years ago. Draco had told Astoria it was so they could have a home to themselves, instead of sharing it with his parents who would surely, "Meddle in our business."

Astoria knew the truth, however, that Draco wanted to escape the memories that flooded that house with despair. The days of the War had made that Manor no longer a home for him, but a place where the hisses of snakes and screams of the tortured echoed in his ears as he walked down the dimly lit hallways.

With the newly growing baby in her stomach, at the time, it was the catalyst to his decision to move to a Mansion in a country environment. Open hills with the sun forever lighting the rooms he had filled with wide and tall windows. The colors inside were still variations of silver and green, however Astoria had added a feminine touch wherever she could. Colors of blue, purple, even the occasional yellow when the season called for it, could be seen in the household. As long as there wasn't red and gold Draco was fine with it.

It has been twelve years since the move in, and their only child, Scorpius, had left for Hogwarts two weeks ago. Draco was in a panic because he had not yet received a letter from his precious son.

Astoria shook her head and sighed as she watched her husband pace in his study, the sunlight that made his receding blonde hair shine was a stark contrast to the contorted look on his face.

"Darling," she pleaded. "Sit down before you wear yourself out."

Draco swiveled on his heel, his black robes swishing behind him. "He hasn't written us," he said, worry etched in his face. "Why hasn't he written us?"

Draco went back to his pacing and Astoria tried to hide a smirk. She knew why her little Scorpius wasn't writing his dear father. For he had written his mother, the night he had arrived at Hogwarts and had forbidden his her to tell his father until he worked up the courage to tell him on his own. Astoria hoped it would be soon, because she was really starting to worry that Draco was going to wear a hole in the carpet.

"He could just be busy with the beginning of school," Astoria tried to reason.

Draco, however, wasn't listening. Instead he was murmuring to himself; Ridiculous things such as, "Could he have fallen out of the boat on his way to the castle? Has the giant squid eaten him?" and "It's those damn Hippogriffs, I know it is! My poor son's been eaten!"

Before Astoria could give into the temptation to wack her husband upside the head, a large eagle owl flew through one of the open windows and let a letter fall gracefully on Draco's head.

"Well, there you go," Astoria drawled.

Draco grumbled and grabbed the envelope off his head, opening it with inhuman speed. Glancing at the first line he looked confused. "It just says 'Dear Dad…', why is that?"

Astoria then proceeded to try and slink out of the room. "Oh would you look at the time!" she exclaimed. "I promised a couple of friends I'd meet them for a cup of coffee! Goodbye darling! Don't have a cardiac arrest!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco yelled as his wife simply apparated away.

With a sinking feeling Draco glanced at the letter and began to read.

_Dear Dad,_

_I'm sure you've been eagerly awaiting my letter. I'm sorry it took so long to write you. You see, something very unexpected happened and I've been trying to gather up the courage to tell you._

Draco stopped there and immediately flew into a panic. Did his son get someone pregnant? He was only eleven! The only letters that started like this meant that his son had either gotten someone pregnant, or was gay. This is so wrong!

_You see dad, I know how much you wanted me to be in Slytherin. To carry on the family tradition and all that. The problem is, I was sorted into Gryffindor._

Draco stopped again to keep himself from fainting. What had happened? His son had been sorted into Gryffindor? What kind of alternate universe had he been transported into? Draco wracked his brain about what could have gone wrong with his son. Surely it wasn't his upbringing. Sure, maybe he had brought up his son with a little more familial love than he had been, and not as much talk about mudbloods and the Dark Lord. He had however thought he had properly instilled a sense of superiority within the young boy, because that's what a Malfoy was. Superior.

He thought again and could only think that it was Astoria's doing. She was too kind-hearted, too soft. Sure he loved her to death, and she was a definite pureblood, as well as having been a Slytherin when she was in school. It must have been someone in her family however, some Ravenclaw or – Heaven forbid – Hufflepuff that blasted this curse upon them. That's why she had scurried off, because she knew the truth! The only thing worse would be… No, fate wouldn't be so cruel.

_It was a bit rough at first, since the Malfoy name isn't so revered in the eyes of the other houses, you know? But I made a really good friend! He's really nice to me, and encouraged me to write this letter to you. He said that his dad had told him that even if he was put in Slytherin (He's in Gryffindor with me though) his dad would still love him. And not disown him… So he said surely you would be as understanding._

Draco frowned a bit. Well, at least he had made a friend. As much as he was appalled by the fact his son was in the stupidest of Houses, maybe having a Malfoy in Gryffindor would help the young Wizarding community see they had changed.

_His name is Albus Potter, and I think we'll be best mates! Write to you soon!_

_Sincerely,_

_Scorpius_

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?" Malfoy screamed.

Collapsing onto to the floor, (He didn't have the strength to steer himself to the sofa) he cursed Karma for all he was worth. Why did it hate him so? This was for all the times he had made fun of Potter and his whole Death Eater stunt wasn't it? Oh dear life, take him now.

Draco threw the letter into the air and pulled out his wand so he could set it ablaze, but before he could it landed on his face, and he read the last, fatal lines.

_P.S. He introduced me to his cousin Rose Weasley! I really like her too, dad. We're going to Professor Hagrid's this weekend for tea!_

"Damnit! Dragon shit!"

On the patio of 'Bewitching Coffee' Astoria winced as she was about to lift her pumpkin pasty to her mouth. She could've sworn she had heard her husband cursing. Daintily placing her pastry down on her plate, a little wind catching her thick brown hair she turned to her two friends, grinning.

"Do you know how your husbands took the news?"

Hermione laughed merrily while Ginny just rolled her eyes. The two had aged gracefully, and their roles as mothers and wives had not changed them a bit.

"I ran out before he got to the best bit," Hermione giggled. "But knowing Ron, he had a yelling fit. Just as I was leaving his ears were turning purple. No doubt he'll send a Howler."

"To Rose?" Astoria asked, surprised.

"Rosie? Of course not!" Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "To Scorpius I'm afraid. Your poor boy won't walk away from this without his ears bleeding."

She looked at Astoria apologetically. Astoria merely laughed.

"And you, Ginny?"

Ginny's fiery red hair bounced as she shook her head.

"Harry did better than my brother," she admitted. "However, I can't say he wasn't shocked. "

"Well," Astoria said, raising her cup of coffee as if holding a toast. "To a surely eventful year! I just can't wait to see our husbands roll around in agony. It will surely liven up the house!"

"Here here!" They exclaimed, clinking their cups together, their giggles and banter making them look as if they were schoolgirls again.


	2. Christmas Invite

The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, and Astoria was ecstatic. The holidays meant her son, Scorpius, was coming home and she couldn't wait to talk to her boy. Sunlight, filtered by the grey clouds that hung in the sky, streamed into the living room. The Christmas tree was currently being decorated by several house elves and Astoria herself. Just as she was levitating a particularly delicate crystal ornament she heard a hideous scream.

"THERE IS NO WAY I'M LETTING POTTERS AND WEASELS INTO MY HOUSE!"

This shocked Astoria so much that she lost all concentration and the ornament fell to the ground and broke with a crash. She huffed and puffed, glaring fiercely at her husband when he marched into the room.

"Look what you did!" she demanded, pointing at the shards littering the hardwood floor.

Usually scolding Draco worked, as she surely held the key to his heart and will, but Draco was so furious he hardly paid any heed to her reprimand. He simply rolled his eyes, drew out his wand and said, "Reparo!"

The ornament became good as new. Astoria sighed, clearly disappointed she wouldn't have the chance to hold something over his head for the rest of the day. Instead she finished her job, levitating the ornament to its proper place. She then glided over to her husband, where they both sat down on the dark green loveseat.

"What's the matter now darling? Another dastardly letter from our wayward son?" she asked, although Draco couldn't miss the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Very funny," Draco drawled. "But, yes, he's done it again. How is this boy my son?"

"It's called procreation, dear," Astoria said. "Do we need to go over the birds and the bees?"

Draco glared daggers at her, pointing a finger at her, obviously hoping he was being threatening.

"Don't go trying to change the subject," he snapped. "I know you little housewives, you're all in cahoots!"

"Now really dear," Astoria exclaimed, holding a hand close over her heart. "That's a horrible accusation to make!"

"Oh, really? So you're not…"

"Hermione works for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she's not a housewife."

Draco groaned pathetically, putting his head in his hands in despair. Astoria giggled, she really did have fun annoying her husband. However, she decided it was time to get serious.

"Really Draco, what is the matter? What did Scorpius say?" she asked, in the most soothing voice she could muster without bursting into a fit of laughter.

Draco mumbled something incoherent.

"What?"

Draco mumbled again.

"Draco, I can't hear you."

"HE WANTS THE POTTER BOY AND THE WEASEL GIRL OVER FOR DINNER!" he exclaimed.

Draco waited with baited breath for his wife's reply.

"That's all?" she asked, looking at him as if he had just been transfigured into a flobberworm.

"What do you mean that's all?" Draco said, indignation clearly in his tone. "A Potter and a Weasley in the Malfoy house? I accepted he was in Gryffindor, I came to terms his best friends were those… those two, under the impression that I would never have to meet them!"

"Draco," Astoria sighed, patting his head as if he were a small child. "You didn't accept it, you nearly had a heart attack and the first thing you did was write a letter to the Headmaster to make sure the Sorting Hat was fired, and you can't fire the sorting hat. Honestly, you can't expect to never meet those kids either. They're his best friends."

She looked into her husbands' icy blue-gray eyes and delivered the final blow. "And you owe Harry Potter and Ron Weasley to give their children a chance, whether you like it or not."

Draco stiffened and had suddenly wished he had never told Astoria in the first place, because she was right. He did owe it to Potter and Weasley, because they had saved his life during the War time. Not only that, but Potter had never convicted the Malfoy family of their crimes even when, Draco knew, they partially deserved it.

Astoria smiled as Draco sulked. She hopped up from her place beside him and said, "Well, now that that's settled, I'm going to go Christmas shopping!" Before Draco had a chance to look up at her she had vanished. Draco heaved a great sigh, and pulled out the crumpled letter from his pocket to read for the thousandth time.

_Dear Dad,_

_I hope you and Mum are well. My first year has been exciting so far. I really enjoy Defense Against the Dark Arts and our flying lessons best. We should play a game of quidditch when I get back for the holidays._

Draco's lips twitched to form a half-smile.

_I can't wait until I can take Care of Magical Creatures though! Then Albus, Rose and me can see Hagrid everyday! Albus said we might be able to ride a Hippogriff!_

Draco's partial smile fell at these words, and he frowned. Oh. Hell. No. His son was not riding on one of those great, ugly beasts. What was that oaf, Hagrid, teaching his son?

_Albus's brother, James, said dragons could eat us though. That isn't true is it?_

Draco now made it a mission to kill James Potter.

_Something's been bothering me… I honestly don't know if I should tell you this. Some Slytherin bloke, named Goyle, pushed me and called me a 'Bloodtraitor'. I know you wanted me to be in Slytherin, dad, but I don't think I like some of them._

This part of the letter made Draco upset. He rubbed his temple with his free hand. He had been afraid of this. When he had gotten over the simple fact of "Oh Merlin my son's in bloody Gryffindor!" he knew that the pure-blood families, especially those who most resented the fall of the Dark Lord, would bully his son. He couldn't imagine how much worse it would get as he got older.

_Besides all of that, it's pretty uneventful. By the way, can Albus and Rose come over for dinner during break ? Thanks!_

_Sincerely,_

_Scorpius_

Draco scowled at the last scribble; the obvious clump of words that Scorpius had been hoping would go simply unnoticed. Draco noticed anything concerning the Potters and Weasleys however, and this was no exception. He laid back and closed his eyes. Surely his son could be satisfied with some other girl or boy his age? Like Blaise's son, or even Pansy's?

Draco knew that he was wrong though. As he opened his eyes, he looked out the window as snow began to fall. For his son's sake, shouldn't he give them a chance? If not their fathers, than their children. After all, it was a miracle his son was still alive. It must have taken a great deal of effort and forgiveness on Ron Wealey's part to let Scorpius within fifty feet of his little girl.

"Kassy," Draco called. One of the house elves, dressed in a prim, spotless white linen came to his aide. "Yes, Master Malfoy?"

"Start the planning for a dinner, probably on the 23rd," he said. "Scorpius's friends are coming."

Meanwhile, at the Burrow, Ron Weasley had just about choked on his cucumber sandwhich.

"My daughter at the MALFOYS?" he screeched.

As he began to rant and rave, Hermione just rolled her eyes. "This might take awhile." She murmured to Crookshanks, the old cat purring in her arms.


	3. Some Things Never Change

What was the old saying? 'The three-headed dog days are over?'

Currently, in Draco Malfoy's life, that was a load of dragon shit.

Early Christmas dinner with his son's two best friends had been an altogether interesting affair. The Potter boy, Albus, had arrived at 6 O'clock on the dot. Astoria had greeted him with a great flourish of warmth and excitement; Scorpius could barely contain himself, while Draco had stood there like a wooden plank. After a few moments where Albus had been distracted by his wife and son, everyone turned expectantly to Draco.

Draco studied the scrawny boy, still covered with a dusting of ash from flooing into their living room. He was the exact image of his father from when they were in school. Untidy dark hair, round glasses, and vivid emerald eyes that sparkled with innocence. The only thing missing was the lightning shaped scar, and Draco was thankful for it. It was already hard enough as it was to accept the boy through letters. Meeting him in person, the less he looked like his father, the better.

Forcing his hand out, he grunted a,

"Mr. Malfoy."

Albus looked at his hand in curiosity for a split-second then shook it. Although both let go rather quickly, Draco noticed that Albus did not seem to harbor any grudge against him, or fear for that matter. It looked like his father hadn't informed him in on the details of their childhood.

The Weasley-Granger hybrid however was fifteen minutes late when she came stumbling out of the floo. Coughing ash and shaking her bushy brown hair, she looked up and grinned.

"I'm very sorry for being late, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," she said. "My dad kept changing his mind on whether or not he wanted me to go. Mum finally just threatened to hex him if he didn't let me."

Draco had originally been prepared to emit a snide comment on her tardiness, but after hearing her excuse he felt it was appropriate not to say anything, and also found a new, grudging respect for the muggle-born who had tormented him at Hogwarts.

Or, he remembered bitterly, he had tormented.

As Astoria once again began fussing over Scorpius' friends, he caught a glimpse of young Rose. Her hair was as bushy and untamed as her mother's had been, but her nose was dusted softly with light colored freckles, and her eyes were a bright, shockingly clear blue resembling that of her father. By her broad grin, she was the perfect mix of the two. He only hoped she had found a balance between being smart and when to keep her trap shut.

Dinner proceeded with a great meal being passed out in the dining room where the five of them sat at a rounded oak table, quite the contrast to the long, painfully-distanced table back at Malfoy Manor. The minute Albus saw one of the house-elves he heaved a sigh.

Turning to Scorpius he said, "Rosie's not going to like this."

It was then, the minute Draco saw Rose's eyes light with a fire the minute the house-elf set the food in front of her, he remembered her own mother's fight for elf rights. This would not bode well if her mother had taught her these morals.

"Are they paid?"

Draco and Astoria looked up to meet Rose's glare that was uncommonly fierce for an eleven year old.

"Because I'm not eating if this was made from slave labor."

Astoria opened her mouth to speak, but Draco beat her to it.

"They're given vacations, however, Astoria has not convinced them to accept pay yet," Draco drawled, taking a sip of the French onion soup. "Your mother has quite the influence on Astoria, don't worry. My wife won't quit until they get their own broomsticks."

Rose seemed satisfied with this answer and began to gobble up her own soup. Astoria beamed at her husband, infinitely proud of him. Draco just shook his head and watched as Scorpius, Rose, and Albus were all deep in conversation about quidditch, Hagrid, O.W.L.S ("That's four years away, Rosie!" "You can never be too prepared!"), and why there was a whomping willow.

Dinner passed like this, with the children and Astoria chatting away while Draco just watched his son. He had wanted to deny the reality of all of this so badly. His House, his friends, Scorpius' stark contrast from everything Draco ever was. But now that he saw it in front of him, he knew he could no longer deny it. Scorpius was happy, and nothing Draco ever would have wanted for him before would have done that. Draco decided that he had to be happy for his son to, that's what a father was supposed to be like wasn't it?

He wouldn't know. He didn't always have the best example growing up.

The Gryffindor posters now covering his son's room, his red and gold scarves, his laughing face, the complete lack of prejudice and expectations in his face… All of it pointed to Scorpius' happiness.

When it was getting late and it was time for Albus and Rose to go, Draco said something he never thought he would've said before.

"Come again some time soon."

When the two had grinned and left Astoria had kissed him, and Scorpius had hugged him around his middle and said, "Thank you."

 

"My darling!" Astoria called through the hallway, watching as Draco's back stood rigid when he was called, and slowly he turned to face her. With one, golden eyebrow raised he looked at her inquisitively.

"Yes?"

"A letter from our wayward son," she smirked with barely conceived amusement as her husband all but ran to her side and grabbed the letter she had grasped in her right hand.

Draco ripped open the envelope and hungrily let his eyes feast on the messy scrawl that decorated the parchment. Scorpius had not been back since Christmas break, and was due home for the summer in two weeks. Still, Draco could hardly anticipate news from his only child.

_Dear Dad,_

_I was hoping I would not have to write this letter to you, as honestly the thought of you having a heart attack does not appeal to me._

Draco's eyes widened. What had happened to his son? Had he hexed someone into next week? (Oliver Wood's son would be acceptable). Kill a Hufflepuff? Get eaten by a dragon? … Oh wait, that doesn't work…

_I really wasn't going to write this, but you were going to be informed soon enough. Really soon, by the school in fact. In the end, Rose made me do it. She said if she and Albus had to write letters to their parents, I better do it or she'll jinx me and make little birds attack me. Said something about a trick her mom uses with her dad._

Draco snorted. He had no doubt that Granger-Weasley would definitely jinx her rather rash husband to make him see anything close to sense.

_Well, Albus, Rose, and I were exploring Hogwarts… at night. We were just curious about the rumours about Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Myrtle's supposed to be really whiny, but there's a game about throwing a book through her head. But also, they say there's something else haunting it. Screams and a bloodstain that won't come off the floor._

Draco got chills up his spine, the memories he had worked so hard to close off flooding back into his mind's eye. Myrtle's comfort, Potter's confrontation, the duel, the searing pain in his chest, the blood… all the blood. Staining the marble floor and permeating the water that surrounded his body. Unconsciously he raised a hand to lightly run across his chest, where the curse scar still remained underneath his clothes.

_A bit creepy if you ask me. But the stain is really there. Eery. The three of us hated it. Myrtle took one look at us and before we could even try to throw a book, she looked like she had seen a ghost and went down the toilet! Haha. Kind of funny… I've tried to distract you too long. Well, Albus and I were looking around, and he found some random box lying on the floor. I told him to open it, but instead, the floor opened up!_

Draco did not like where this was going. He just really hoped they didn't go in…

_So naturally we jumped in._

Well shit…

_How were we supposed to know we had opened the Chamber of Secrets?_

Draco read the last line again and again. How was that possible? Not only had his son and his friends entered the bathroom, which was home to one of his, and he was sure Potter's, worst memories, but opened the bloody Chamber of Secrets… where if he wasn't mistaken, a dead Basilisk was now rotting. Yet Draco knew the only way to do it was to be a Parselmouth, and his son said 'open'. There had been no known history of any parsletongues in his family. It also seemed his friends did not even notice it, which would mean they understood him… meaning they did not see the significance.

"Draco?"

Draco turned to see his wife staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. He had not realized she had been reading over his shoulder. They thought that all the adventure they had experienced at Hogwarts was over…

"Malfoy!"

Draco turned to see a very purple Ron Weasley and a grave looking Harry Potter standing in front of his fireplace and covered in soot.

Apparently, none of it was over.


	4. The Past Behind Us

"Why on earth," Ron roared, advancing dangerously upon Malfoy, his soot covered face slightly frightening. "Is my daughter and my nephew speaking _Parseltongue_? With your son? Opening the damn Chamber of Secrets?"

"Ron, calm down." Harry said, grasping his friend's arm tightly.

For some reason Draco couldn't explain, something in him from his school days erupted inside him and snapped.

"How should I know, Weasley?" Draco drawled. "But it's more suspicious that your children are speaking it isn't it? Got a dark side you're not sharing with us?"

Ron's ears were turning purple.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, you're not in school anymore!" Astoria snapped.

Draco's ever-growing sense of hatred died down immediately, rightly chastened by his wife. There was, however, a bubbling feeling of dislike still broiling underneath his skin.

"I don't know where our son could have gotten his heritage as a Parselmouth," Astoria said, more calmly than before – but barely. "All Pure-Blood families are related in some way, so we must have inherited it through our union. The talent is known to skip generations until it comes upon a particularly strong wizard."

Draco wanted to smirk, but held it in. These days, being a Parselmouth was nothing to be proud of.

"That doesn't explain us though." Harry said, puzzled.

"We're all related, remember Potter?" Draco said, a little haughtily. "I know Weasley, unfortunately, is closely related to me through the Blacks. You are a Parselmouth though, aren't you?"

"No," Ron said, looking around wildly at Harry. "It disappeared once Voldemort was destroyed!"

Harry nodded his head, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"When Voldemort's soul inside my body was destroyed, I lost all ability to speak with snakes after that."

"And, I can't believe I'm saying this, but no offense to Granger… I mean, your wife, Weasley, as a Muggle-born would weaken the magical gene that allows for the heritage of a Parselmouth."

Ron glared a little but said, surprisingly, "No offense taken since I think that's the first time you haven't called her a Mud-Blood."

There was an awkward silence for a bit as the party pondered this over.

"Wait… Hermione is an extremely capable witch. Besides, most Muggle-borns are descended from Wizards. Its just the magic skipped over many generations," Astoria said, realization dawning on her face. "Her ancestor could've had a relation to a Parselmouth!"

"Why didn't Hermione have the ability then?" Ron asked.

"It probably skipped her, but her union with you, a Pure-Blood, probably made the magic for heritage stronger for your children!" Harry said.

"And out of all of them, it chose Rose." Draco concluded.

"And Albus?" Ron asked.

"Harry's powerful blood, being a Potter, and his marriage with Ginny must have also awakened the trait."

"Damn it all," Harry sighed, putting his face in his hands. "And they opened the Chamber of Secrets… saw what was down there… I thought this was all behind us. I wanted Albus to live a normal life."

Astoria glanced at Harry, pity alight in her gaze.

"Nothing can ever be normal in the Wizarding World, Harry."

"How do we explain it all to them? We can't keep them in the dark forever about what happened in school." Ron pointed out.

"And what should we tell them Weasley?" Draco exclaimed, throwing his pale hands into the air. "By the way, children, your parents opened the Chamber of Secrets. Albus, Rose, your parents nearly died every year trying to defeat the Dark Lord. Scorpius, your father nearly died and killed hundreds of others to serve that great, evil, git! Oh yes, we'll tell them that!"

Harry and Ron looked up at Draco in what could only be conveyed as shock. They had never heard from his own lips a word of remorse for the crimes he had committed during The War. Harry felt the smallest, and strangest bit of compassion. It grew as he witnessed the emotions of self-loathing and disgust flash across Draco's face. Astoria put a comforting arm on her husband's shoulder.

"You know, Malfoy," Harry said, a little uncertainly. "You didn't really have a choice and… I don't think you were truly a Deatheater… You didn't have the heart for it. When Hermione was… When she was being…" Harry couldn't finish.

Both Harry and Draco looked over at Ron, and it was like watching Ron see the whole scene right in front of his eyes again. The fear, the pain, and the never-ending sense of sorrow were stuck on his face. Harry's emerald eyes met Draco's ice blue-grey ones and he finished.

"You didn't have the heart to hurt her… I never forgot that."

There was another silence, this one was just as heavy as the last, but not as awkward. Draco was glad he had moved into this new mansion all of a sudden. If they were in the Manor, he knew the memory of Hermione's screams would be even harder to relive.

Harry straightened and said, "We'll inform our children when the time is right. But if I know anything, we can't wait too long or they'll never forgive us."

Draco and Astoria nodded. Ron just shrugged. When both made a move to say goodbye and floo back home Ron dared to glance out of the nearby window. He froze, his face possessing a look of the utmost horror.

"Malfoy, where the hell do you live?"

"On the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Why?"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Ron screamed.

Astoria and Harry looked at each other and started to laugh.

"It looks like we won't have to floo anymore," Harry said between his fits of laughter. "It's a bit late but, welcome to the neighborhood Malfoy."

Leaving Malfoy looking as if the world was presently ending, Harry dragged an absolutely distraught Ron over to the fireplace, and flooed away.

 

When Ron and Harry arrived at The Burrow all was quiet. In the darkness, Ron whispered,

"But Harry, he didn't do anything either… I don't know if I can forgive him for that."

Harry looked at his best friend sadly.

"I know it's hard," Harry said. "But I think he tried. He knew it was me, even with the jinx on me. He didn't want us to die."

"How do you know?"

"With Malfoy, it's all about the eyes. He felt the same way we did back then."

"And how was that?"

"Scared."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on guys, I've got 200 hits and NO comments? Even constructive criticism is welcome, please?


	5. Change of Scenery

It was only two weeks into summer vacation and already Draco's head was spinning. His only child, Scorpius, had not stopped badgering him since his return home from Hogwarts. After the misleading hugs, declarations of love, stories and so forth, Scorpius had uttered a sentence that Draco knew would never end well.

"Dad… You're the best dad in the whole wide world!"

Draco knew then and there if he did not start running away now, and fast, he was infinitely screwed. Yet, like the "lump of fluffy pygmy puff" that Astoria said he was, deep, deep, deep inside his heart he replied with an unknowing grin,

"What do you want, son?"

"Can we go to a picnic at Rose and Albus' house in three weeks?"

The smile on Draco's face froze. Without a word he stood up and excused himself to go scream his lungs out within the confines of his room.

"What did I do to deserve this? This is all going too fast for me… I don't know if I can take this step yet…" Draco murmured into his pillow, lying face down in the bed as Astoria absentmindedly ran her fingers through his hair. Scorpius did not hear his comments. He was too busy bouncing on the bed like he was still a toddler instead of the twelve year old he now was. Every time the young boy bounced, his white blonde hair flopping in his face, he added another syllable to the now dreaded sentence.

"Please – Dad – Please – Let's – Go – Over! – Please! – I – Love – You!"

"You only say that when you want something," Draco growled. "You have no real love for your father."

"Come on, Dad!" Scorpius howled as he finally flopped onto the king-sized bed, his stomach making a plop on the dark green comforter. "Why are you so stubborn?"

Draco turned to glare at his son.

"I'm stubborn? What about you, boy?"

Astoria sighed and said,

"Alright children, since both of you cannot seem to come to an agreement, and I'm a firm believer in democracy, I shall cast the final vote."

Both boys whipped their heads to stare at her. Draco's face was incredulous while Scorpius broke into an almost evil grin.

"We shall go to the picnic and have ourselves a merry time."

Scorpius jumped up and gave out a big whoop of joy while Draco groaned in misery. The young boy swooped in, gave his mother a big kiss on the cheek and then ran off to owl his best friends.

"That's not fair," Draco whined. "You always take his side!"

"He's my son, of course I do."

"I'm your husband!"

"Your point is?"

Draco just heaved another groan.

"You're worse than my mother!"

Astoria giggled.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said softly, kissing Draco's forehead. "As I remember it, no one got in the way between her and her boy."

A week later Draco was walking down the grassy hills to the Burrow, a place he had relentlessly mocked in his school days but had never actually been to. He was dreading it. Not out of any presumption that the house would be anything like how he had insinuated, but that his presence would surely call to mind those insults. Besides, he really did not feel like getting hexed today.

They were over the last hill and Draco saw what seemed to be a multi-storied house, all mismatched and charmed together. There was a large front and back yard, nothing but green space surrounding it. There was a shed off to the side, and as they approached Draco could see a spattering of fiery red heads. He came to a sudden halt.

Wait a minute… Was the whole Weasley clan invited to this thing?

Dear Merlin, his son was going to watch him die.

Astoria looked at him and smiled encouragingly.

"It'll be okay," she whispered.

"You don't know that. You don't know Weasleys like I do, they hold grudges, especially concerning me."

"Maybe you don't know them as well as you think," she said. "Maybe you need to stop seeing them through the eyes of a schoolboy, and look at them as if it was the first time."

They got to the rickety gate and before Draco could even register anything, all he heard was,

"SCORPIUS!"

A blur of bushy brown hair zoomed past Draco and Astoria to propel herself on his son. Scorpius and the girl fell with a loud oomph, followed by a bout of laughter from the children, giggles from Astoria, and a dumbfounded look from Draco.

"Rosie, you're going to smother him!" Albus was trotting up to them now, wearing muggle jeans and a gray t-shirt.

"Yeah Rose, why so excited, is he your boyfriend?" Came a drawl from the other side of the fence. Albus turned around to glare at a boy with unruly black hair and hazel eyes. Rose and Scorpius got up, Rose sticking her tongue out at the older boy while Scorpius, Draco couldn't help but notice, blushed.

"Don't be a pig-head, James!" Rose exclaimed. "You know Scorpius and I are just friends!"

James tone was light, but his eyes narrowed into threatening slits.

"That's what they always say."

James turned to Draco and Astoria. Leaping over the gate in a flourish Draco couldn't help but think was exaggerated and cocky, James Potter gave Astoria a bow and stuck out his hand for Draco to take.

"Mr. Malfoy, I presume," he said, as if he really thought he was twenty years older than his fifteen years of age. "If I'm not mistaken, we're slightly distant relatives. Welcome to the family reunion!"

Draco instantly disliked this boy, but took his hand nonetheless.

"Yes, through marriage or something or other." Draco replied evenly, both letting go of each other's hand after the exchange.

James grinned and turned to his young cousin.

"Hear that Rosie? We're related."

Rose just gave a huff, grabbing Scorpius' hand and shoving her cousin aside as she grabbed Albus' wrist in her other free hand.

"Distantly!" she shot back.

Draco eyed James, who continued to stare at the trio. If Draco didn't know any better this boy was trying to… But that was ridiculous.

"What's all the commotion?"

Two fiery redheads were heading up to the group of three now. One was tall and gangly, his head balding and spectacles enlarging his blue eyes. The other was stocky and walked with a lively gait; one of his ears was missing.

Mr. Weasley and George Weasley came to a halt when they discovered whom they had just come to greet. The atmosphere was tense, but James was either oblivious or simply didn't care because he said,

"Grandad! Uncle George! Look what distant relatives came to visit!"

"Well, yes," Mr. Weasley said nervously, glancing from the couple across the fence, his grandson and his own son, who was glaring at Draco with unrestrained loathing. "Um, welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy."

"Just Draco and Astoria is fine," Astoria said smoothly, taking over with her charm as Draco stood there.

Draco was so unsure of what to do. An old reflex of his was to make a snide remark or insult them, yet he knew things were different now. He was different now, despite the fact that it was still a small, ever-changing difference.

"Well come on inside, all the women of the family are getting lunch ready right now."

"Thank you!" Astoria positively beamed, gliding into the garden, taking up Mr. Weasley's side and said, "Mr. Weasley, you must tell me about these rubber ducks muggles have invented, I find it ever so interesting…"

As he watched Mr. Weasley begin to brighten up and talk animatedly with his wife about the function of a rubber duck, George sidled up to him, leaned in close and said,

"One word from you, Malfoy about my family and I will personally make sure you won't be able to hold food down for 5 months," All of a sudden the man grinned and clapped him on the back. "Got it, ferret?"

Malfoy bristled at the comment but, thinking of his son, took in a huge breath and replied, "Trust me, Weasley, I have no intention of being your newest experiment."

Everything got a little better when they went inside the house. It seemed the women had an instant calming effect on the men that made them relax… or maybe it was fear. Draco honestly couldn't tell.

When he had entered the house he did think to himself it was smaller than what he was used to. Yet at the same time he thought begrudgingly, almost bitterly, that it was filled with a familial warmth his home had utterly lacked growing up. It made him slightly, and he'd never admit it… jealous.

As he moved throughout the house, getting closer to the kitchen his eyes were drawn to a magical clock, with names scrawled across the many hands. He couldn't help notice, with an odd little sting, the name that was firmly placed on "Deceased".

"Oy! Malfoy!"

Draco twisted on his feet to face the Golden trio, in all their glory. Draco could've sworn, for a moment, he saw them as they used to be. Hogwarts robes, faces unmarred by wrinkles, but troubled by thoughts none of them had needed. Yet, they had always managed to laugh. Draco remembered, during his sixth year, hating them for it.

All at once the vision was gone, and he stood looking at two men and a woman in their late thirties, perfectly content with their lives and the wrinkles forming on their faces. Draco couldn't hate them for this though, because he was also happy with his life. For now.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you showed up," Ron commented. "Expected Scorpius, even Astoria, but you… well, I thought you never wanted to step inside my house."

Harry heaved a sigh as Hermione wacked Ron over the head, admonishing him, "Ron! That's no way to act to a guest!"

Ron yelped and rubbed his head, but turned to face her.

"What about when we were guests in his house all those years ago?" he hissed. "We weren't treated so well then, were we? Or have you forgotten?"

Hermione went pale and Harry stepped forward to put an arm on both of their shoulders. Draco was thankful no one else was in the room. The kids were playing in the yard, and everyone else was too busy in the kitchen or setting up tables outside to notice the skeletons being unearthed in the living room.

"Despite what you may think, Weasley," Draco forced out of his mouth, gritting his teeth and trying his best not to act… superior. "I do not think your house is the shanty hole I claimed it was, it's actually quite cozy. And I'm trying my absolute best to push what happened during the War behind me. Not just for me, but for my son. I still don't like you though, if that makes you feel better."

There was a stony silence, as Hermione and Harry gaped at him while Ron puffed out his cheeks. Whether in thought or frustration Draco couldn't tell, until Ron said,

"That does, actually." And with that Ron strolled outside to check on the kids.

"Well, um," Hermione started. "I guess I should say welcome, Malfoy… Oh that sounds rude doesn't it?" she turned to Harry with a puzzled look. "What do we call him now? We can't call him Malfoy in front of the children, sets a bad example…"

Harry snorted. "Only you would care about such things, Hermione," He tweaked her nose and said, "I guess we'll have to call him Draco, at least in front of the kids."

"Excuse me," Draco ground out. "I'm right here you know. Don't I get a say in this?"

Harry let out a small smile.

"No."

The picnic went on rather smoothly, considering that Draco was there at all. Astoria knew all the girls already, and engaged in conversation with such ease that Draco had to stop and admire her. The kids were… well, kids. None of them knew the history behind the two families animosity, not that there was much animosity to begin with. Plus, at the moment, they were being entertained by Teddy Lupin, who was morphing his nose from a pig's, to a duck's to a dragon's fire-breathing snout.

The men were now talking of quidditch and Harry, surprisingly being the most gracious next to Mr. Weasley, asked Draco who he thought would win the next World Cup.

All of the men's eyes were on him while the women, all except for Angelina and Ginny, rolled their eyes.

"Well," Draco said slowly. Why was he feeling so…nervous? Was he nervous? No! Malfoys never get nervous! "Since Britain didn't make it, again, its between Germany and Korea this year, isn't it? To be honest, I hope the Koreans win, the Germans are… well, the Germans."

Ginny, Angelina, and George all let out great hoots of victory. George even jumped up from his seat, ran over to where Draco sat, and clapped him hard on the back.

"Smartest thing you've said, Malfoy!" George exclaimed. "I much rather see the Koreans win than the Germans. The Koreans are tricky flyers, lots of speed!"

"But they always play dirty!" Ron yelled, waving his arms in the air.

"So do the Germans," George said calmly, as if explaining something to a two-year old. "But the Koreans are much better at hiding it. Did you hear that Schweinsteiger just outright pushed Ramirez off his broom when they went against Argentina in the semi-finals? He's lucky all those jinxes missed him, since he's a damn good flyer."

"Which is why they should win!" Harry argued.

Draco barked a laugh.

"Hardly a reason for them to win. Now, if you want to talk about good flying, that Jung Youngho is fantastic! Don't know why he's a Beater…"

"Because his arms are bigger than his fat head," Ron drawled.

"You obviously don't know what you're talking about…"

"Actually, Dad," Scorpius chirped. "I think Mr. Weasley is right."

Every red head stared at him.

"Um," Scorpius said. "Mr. Ron Weasley."

Draco gaped as Ron gave an unexpected, triumphant, grin.

"You, my dear fellow, " Ron said. "Should come sit by me, as I give you cake as a reward for your wise words and we try to convince your wayward father how wrong he is."

The whole table laughed and Draco continued to look on, horrified, as his son approached Ron and sat up next to him.

"Earning points, aren't we?" James called, and Rose swiftly punched him in the gut. Her younger brother, Hugo, chuckled.

Astoria and Hermione shared a knowing look. Hermione could swear that tears of joy were welling up in Astoria's eyes.

"There's still a long road ahead," she said. "But I'm so glad we're getting there."

Hermione clasped Astoria's hand tightly in one of her own.

"We certainly are."


	6. Deaf Ears

Scorpius' second year at Hogwarts had come one faster than Draco would have liked to admit. A whirlwind of letters had flown through the house from September to April, full of adolescent adventures that needed constant re-telling. Draco and Astoria would at once smile and cringe at the mishaps their "wayward" son would find himself in.

_Well you see, it wasn't really MY fault that Flint fellow got a broken nose… I wasn't exactly aiming the hex at him, he just got in the way…_

_Albus and I tried out for the quidditch team and we didn't make it this year. I guess they were too intimidated by our natural talent._

_Hugo. And. Lily. Need. To. STOP. Following. Us. It's annoying. Plus I think Lily MIGHT have a crush on me, which is in no way shape or form good. She's much too young._

Draco had snorted at that. "So are you." He had muttered with a smile that November day.

_Albus, Rose and I have decided that detention with Filch is not exactly exciting. He keeps threatening to string us up by our toes._

_WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THE KITCHENS! IT'S A BLOODY MIRACLE! Rose just thinks Albus, James and I are pigs though._

These sort of instances, big and small kept happening until Scorpius came home for the Easter holiday. Scorpius had come home at first very excited to see his parents and grandparents (they were much more mellow these days, at least, his mother was). Yet when Scorpius found out that it would be spent at his grandparents manor he had cringed and became the poster child for doom and gloom.

"I don't like that house," Scorpius had whispered to the floor, not daring to look at his father, dragging his right toe in a circular motion. "It's so… cold. It feels like ghosts live there, but you know, the ones you can't see."

Draco could never blame his son for feeling this way. Draco now hated that house and no fond memory that he might have had of it before the War remained in his mind. The screams of the dead and dying still echoed through the corridors, and he never dared go down into that horrid basement.

"I'm sorry, son," Draco had said gently, kneeling in front of his boy and pulling his chin up so their eyes met. "But your grandparents are nearly dragons now, and they get grumpy when they travel."

Scorpius giggled involuntarily and Astoria, looking on, smiled.

Entering Malfoy Manor was like entering a cage again for Draco. He looked around and nothing had changed except the scourging of the blood stains from the floor. Narcissa and Lucius greeted their grandson by spoiling him with chocolate frogs, sugar quills, and cauldron cakes. Astoria turned to her husband and rolled her eyes, but she was grinning all the same. Draco tried to smile but it faltered.

Dinner that evening had started out pleasant enough. They sat at a long oak table, polished to shining perfection. It was not the same table that Draco had watched as Professor Charity Burbage was devoured… His mother and him had burned it.

The air she had dangled from, however, was still there.

Suddenly Lucius turned to young Scorpius as he was devouring a tender piece of beef and asked,

"I've heard, my boy, that you've been… consorting with a Potter and a Weasley."

Draco and Astoria both visibly stiffened. Narcissa frowned at her husband, possessing more tact. Draco had done his best to keep Scorpius' school life away from his father's knowledge. The pure blood circle of families, especially the older generations, was tight though. Of course Lucius would have heard about it eventually through the grape vine.

"Albus and Rose!" Scorpius said, beaming, completely unaware of the tension in the room.

Lucius began to open his mouth, his old and hardened face tightening, but Draco spoke up.

"Yes, Father, they are his very best friends. Quite _lovely_ , really. Wouldn't you agree Astoria?"

"Yes, quite so. Ever so _delightful_."

The emphasis on their words did not escape the elder Malfoys. Lucius looked like he was about to speak again until Narcissa laid a hand on his arm and shook her head.

Later that night as Astoria and Draco laid in bed, Draco found it impossible to sleep. Astoria breathed softly next to him but Draco could not find rest. He looked around his room, gazing at the old Slytherin and quidditch posters he had thought were so cool as a teenager. The figures on them moved slowly, almost lazily, as the old paper was aging without any proper care.

Then he remembered coming to his room every night with the knowledge that beasts like Fenrir Greyback and his own aunt were downstairs. He would shiver in bed for hours, afraid that any one of them would go crazy and just… kill them all. There were times he would be put in charge of the dungeon that their basement had become downstairs. A week afterwards he would scream into his pillow.

Slowly and carefully he got up from bed. Kissing Astoria on the forehead he hoisted himself away from her and, for some reason, started to walk out of the room and down the hall. Something was pulling him to Scorpius' room. It was a room his father and mother had made just for him, completely new and unused before he was born.

That did not stop the ghosts.

He found Scorpius sniveling into his pillow, his hands white as he clutched the sheets. Draco slowly wandered over to him, sat down beside him and patted his hair.

Scorpius flinched but then recognized the weathered face of his father and propelled himself into his embrace.

"Someone keeps yelling and screaming," he sobbed, burying himself into his father's strong chest. "And another person won't stop… laughing at them."

Draco raised his head so his son wouldn't see the tears fill his eyes. A wet trail was left on his cheek.

"They're just nightmares, your imagination," he lied. He was better at lying now. "I'm here, you're safe. Safe and sound."

Scorpius sniffled.

"I feel like a baby. I'm not five anymore!"

"No you're not," Draco said somberly, holding his son close. "And you don't know haw sad that makes me."

He settled his son in bed and laid down beside him. Scorpius, trying to regain his composure, glared at him. Draco gave a watery chuckle. "Indulge your old man once, Soon I won't be able to pick you up anymore either."

Scorpius gave a pathetic glare and let himself fall asleep next to his father. When Scorpius began snoring softly, Draco whispered,

"I'm sorry."

It fell on deaf ears.


	7. All They Have

Scorpius's third year was not going so well. At least, it wasn't going well on Draco's side of things. All too soon his growing boy's voice was cracking, he needed a new set of robes it seemed every two months, and he was copping an attitude so thick and horrendous that Draco wanted to bludgeon him over the head with a nasty goblin.

Scorpius acted completely normal around his friends, but when it came to his parents, especially his father, he would act too cool for them. As if he couldn't be bothered to be around them. He did not hug or kiss his mother goodbye when departing for Hogwarts, and he also informed them he was not coming home for the Christmas holidays.

His letters consisted of one word sentences and his initials. There were no questions of concern or signatures of love. Just sentences proclaiming a big event or a demand.

_I made the quidditch team this year._

_S.M._

No mention of what position, how he felt, or even what the Potter boy got.

_Please send me some chocolate frogs._

_S.M._

At least there was a please.

_Send me some sugar quills._

_S.M._

Okay…

_Send me a new broomstick. That new StarStruck model is good._

_S.M._

"Fuck this shit…" Draco exclaimed as he tossed the letter in the air, pulled out his wand, and sent a silent, fury laced Incendio at it. It turned into a pile of ashes in front of Astoria's face.

"Now dear, its just a phase, calm down," she reasoned, hovering a cup of calming draught by her side just in case.

"He has been nothing but rude, disrespectful, arrogant..."

"All teenagers go through this,"

"I couldn't have been this bad!"

Astoria raised he eyebrows at him.

"Really darling? Really? Did you, of all people, just say you weren't a completely spoiled toe-rag as a teenager?"

Draco snarled but didn't retort.

"I'll have an absolute laugh about this with Hermione and Ginny later," she said plainly. "Now here darling, drink this before you pop the vein bulging out of the side if your face."

Draco did as he was told and as he sipped the potion Astoria walked off to dispatch her own piece of discipline upon her son.

A week after the Howler was sent, the Malfoy's received ten pieces of parchment detailing the very lively events of a third year's life, full of nothing but 'please', 'thank you's', and a vivid description about how lovely his 2 year old Comet Redux was, and that he was just too attached to even think about getting a new one.

"I think I'm even more in love with than before, Astoria."

"Oh I know, darling, I know."

 

Scorpius still did not come home for the Christmas holidays and Draco tried to shrug it off as no big deal. Scorpius was getting to that stage where he rather spend the holidays with his friends running around Hogsmeade, skating on the lake, and stuffing their faces at the feast. However, it didn't make him feel less lonely as Christmas began to approach.

Astoria smiled softly at Draco as he looked absently at a recent letter Scorpius had sent about Albus's and his most recent attempt to break the ice leading into the lake, so they could see if the giant squid really hibernated in the winter. Apparently Rose had just stood off to the side, shaking her head, "the wind rustling her curls and the snowflakes dancing across her nose" as Scorpius had so poetically put. Draco was caught between a laugh and a gag as he read it.

Apparently, their plans had been thwarted when Professor McGonagall, the old bat, had come dashing out in the snow. Thus commenced the chase that Hugo and Lily, both fascinated with photography, captured. Rose was up close and at the right hand of the picture shaking her head, crossed between scoffing in disapproval and laughing with delight. Albus and Scorpius were merrily sliding around the lake with no skates. At one point Scorpius would fall on his face and Albus would hurriedly kick him across the ice as McGonagall transfigured her boots into skates and chased after them.

"We should frame this," Draco commented off handedly, as if he didn't really care. Astoria knew better.

"Yes," she agreed. "Those three certainly have a lot of adventures."

Draco could not grasp the feeling that swirled inside of his stomach. A mixture of longing and jealousy.

 

Two days before Christmas Eve Astoria apparated home with a crack of excitement. Draco didn't even blink as he stirred his hot chocolate lazily, his hip propped up by the edge of the balcony to their bedroom.

"What are you doing out here in the cold?" she asked, her cheeks flushed from the bitter wind.

"Thinking. Where were you? You were gone before I got up."

"Breakfast with the girls," she said absently. She walked past him in a flurry, opening the glass doors to their bedroom wide open. As she was starting to remove her muffler and hat, she dropped the bomb.

"We've been invited to Christmas dinner at the Weasley house."

Draco snorted the hot chocolate and the burning liquid simultaneously went up his nose and down his throat. He coughed and spluttered for a good five minutes before yelling, "What?"

"You heard me darling,"

"Yes but, are you crazy? Actually, more importantly, are they crazy?"

"I don't see the problem, you did so well when we saw them last summer,"

"A mere fluke," he spat. "What did you say?"

"Yes, of course."

Draco flung his one free arm in the air. He stalked into the room, taking out his wand and flicking the doors shut behind him.

"Dear Salazar, what have I done to deserve this?"

"It won't be that bad Draco, besides, its important I go and if you're not with me it just looks strange,"

"Why must you go then?"

Astoria was taking off her outer robe as she said, with a little hitch in her voice, "Luna's been having a tough time since her husband died."

Draco grimaced.

Luna Scamander, formerly Lovegood, had lost her husband two months ago in an accident. He had been a magizoologist and apparently he had been doing research on the recent mating habits of mermaids and sirens together. Unfortunately he lost track of the time and the gillyweed he had taken lost its effects while he was deep under a body of water in Scotland. To make things worse, the siren population hadn't been all too willing to give up the man's body either.

Her twin boys, Lorcan and Lysander, were no more than five years old.

"So this is some sort of pity party?"

Astoria threw a fierce glare at her husband.

"You know it's not that,"

"Seems like that to me,"

"She just needs some family right now,"

"You're not her family though."

Astoria's eyes were sad, and Draco hated that, as she slowly, carefully, placed her gloves on the bed.

"To Luna," she said, so gently Draco almost didn't hear it. "We've been her family for 21 years."


	8. Painful Apathy

Draco remembered the day he had found out Luna’s husband had died. As Astoria fluttered around their room, pulling out different tartan scarfs and wondering which would match her robes best before Christmas dinner, Draco couldn’t help but stare out the window at the darkening sky. He dreaded this party, not just because he would be forced into the company of the entire Weasley-Potter clan once again but because the last time he saw Luna Scamander, she had been an outright wreck. He could only pray to Salazar that she would not bring it up.

 

_It was a chilly October day and Draco sat at his great mahogany desk in his study. His quill scratched the surface of the parchment as he meticulously took notes, pausing from time to time to re-read his reports. He would often go over his writing for so long that the ink at the tip of his quill would run dry but Draco liked it that way. He liked to think and then ponder further, letting his hard work show for itself. It was a slow process but one that Draco knew would reflect a great amount of accuracy and care._

_Draco was just about to call Astoria or Kassy for a fresh cup of tea when he heard the door open and footsteps make his way towards him._

_“Astoria,” Draco said, looking up. “I was just about to-“ Draco shut up abruptly when he came face to face with Luna “Loony” Lovegood. Well, Draco thought, it was Scamander now wasn’t it?_

_Her wispy, light blonde hair hung loosely down her shoulders and settled on her faded, periwinkle robes. She was wearing mud-encrusted Wellingtons and two identical blond headed toddlers were holding her hands, looking up at Draco with curiosity. Draco looked into Luna’s eyes and they were they held that same faraway look in them but somehow he knew there was more to it. Something unmistakable. Something that anyone who had suffered loss would realize._

_“Is Astoria here, Draco?” Luna asked._

_Draco winced at her informality, but then again when Draco had seen her a few times in passing with his wife, she was always like that._

_“Loveg- Scamander,” Draco began, her new name heavy on his tongue. “Astoria is around somewhere. How did you get in? Why didn’t you go straight to her?”_

_Luna cocked her head and although she was looking in Draco’s direction her eyes never met his._

_“I flooed here of course,” she said as if Draco was quite silly for even asking her that. Your mansion is so big I just wandered until I found someone.”_

_Draco sighed._

_“Alright, Scamander, why are you here? I don’t remember Astoria-“_

_“Rolf is dead,” Luna said bluntly. “I’m in quite a compromised state and I was wondering if she could look after Lorcan and Lysander for awhile.”_

_Draco was struck dumb, completely blindsided by the news. His mouth hung open as he stared at Luna then her two children, who seemed un-phased, then back to her. She still wasn’t looking at him._

_“Sca- um, Luna,” Draco said, trying to sound gentle but really just coming off sick, “I’m sorry for your loss.”_

_“You’re not really sorry,” Luna chimed, “You didn’t know him, or us, but thank you for trying.”_

_Draco couldn’t speak._

_There was a silence for a moment that felt like eternity, Luna staring blankly over Draco’s head through his study window. Her eyes never left the grey October sky, red and orange leaves turning brown and falling from their trees. Draco’s eyes never left Luna’s face._

_Draco was jolted out of his stupor when one of the twins scrunched his face up and started to cry. The wailing pierced Draco’s body and he looked towards Luna and to her son and back again. Luna didn’t seem to notice her son’s distress, her grip loosening on his tiny hand. The other son turned his head to stare at his brother as if he had grown a second head._

_“For Circe’s sake, Luna, do something!” he cried, standing up out of his chair and making his way towards her._

_She still didn’t look at him, just stared at the grey clouds that blended so seamlessly with the hypothetical eternity that floated above their heads. Draco knew that look, that catatonic state. She was so emotionally compromised that she had become apathetic and it was so much more dangerous than violent emotion. At least with sobbing, screaming, and anger he could predict what happened next. He could tell someone of she was going to be okay. He couldn’t now._

_As the boy began to cry even louder, his face red and snot running from his nose and over his lips, instinct took hold of Draco. He wrenched the toddler from his mother’s grasp and scooped him up into his arms. Shooting a glare at Luna he then turned to the boy and asked, “What’s your name, little man, what’s your name?”_

_The boy couldn’t answer his sobs were becoming so violent. Draco patted his back to soothe him, rubbing little circles with his fingers and cooing softly into his white blonde hair. For a moment Draco almost thought he was holding Scorpius again, tiny and vulnerable and heartbreakingly his._

_“He’s Lorcan, “ the other twin said from below, looking up at Draco before sticking his thumb in his mouth. “He doesn’t like that daddy’s gone.”_

_Draco looked from Lysander, to Lorcan, to Luna and suddenly a hot, white fury overtook him. With Lorcan balanced in one arm he used the other to grab hold of Luna’s shoulder and shook her hard._

_“Listen to me, witch, you better go get your damn act together by tomorrow cause these boys here need their mother to properly explain to them their dad’s death. You can’t just say he’s gone and expect them to cope. So by all the gods, Luna Scamander, deal with your grief then come back here and help bloody well deal with your son’s!”_

_“Draco what’s going on- Luna!”_

_Draco whirled around to see Astoria standing the doorway, dumbstruck. After accessing the situation with a quick scan of her eyes Astoria started to approach Luna but Luna swiftly turned on her heel and apparated out of the house._

_Draco walked over to Astoria and tried to hand her Lorcan who couldn’t get enough breath to scream now but was dry heaving into Draco’s shoulder. The little boy clung to Draco’s robes, refusing to let go. Draco let out a sigh and with his eyes communicated with Astoria. She understood. She glided over and swooped down to pick up Lysander. Turning towards her husband she widened her eyes in question._

_“Rolf Scamander is dead.”_

 

“Draco!”

Draco’s head snapped up to meet his wife’s gaze. He was sitting on their bed still staring out the window, his knuckles white from gripping the emerald sheets. Astoria held out her hand and smiled down at him. 

“Come on, love, it’ll be okay.”

Draco grabbed her hand and together they managed to hoist Draco off the bed. He was in front of Astoria now, towering over her and yet her eyes always made her so much older, so much better, than him. 

“I don’t know about okay…”

“Draco, darling, it’s Christmas. It’s a time of… of understanding.”

Draco could not fully believe it himself but his wife’s wholehearted belief that he could almost convinced him. Draco leaned in and kissed Astoria, whispering, 

“I love you.”


	9. Warmth

Draco and Astoria had ascended the last snowy hill, Astoria clinging to Draco’s left arm, snuggling into his side to seek out warmth. Draco tried to resist the shiver coming up his spine but he was not successful. Despite the thickness of their long wool overcoats Draco and Astoria could feel the chill of the snow around them. It had dusted their hair, looking like powdered sugar. Their toes were beginning to feel wet through their boots. 

“See? I knew this was a bad idea right from the get-go!” Draco said sourly. 

“Oh, stop complaining,” Astoria said, swatting his arm weakly with her gloved hand. “It’ll be fine. I mean, look at it, isn’t it beautiful?” 

Draco turned his face from Astoria’s own and looked ahead of him, down the hill towards the lit windows of the Burrow. The roof was covered in snow and the many levels of the house had strings of bell jars, with bright white fire flickering within the glass, wrapped around it. The wild hedges in the garden seemed to have real fairy lights floating in the green. The fence was decorated with red and green tinsel that sparkled amongst the snow and under the moonlight. 

Not since his days at Hogwarts had Draco seen anything so wonderfully strange and warm. Astoria and Kassy always made their home beautiful around Christmastime but this display was not classy or elegant. However, the warmth of the light that surrounded the house made Draco’s chest tighten uncomfortably. 

Astoria tugged him along and they descended the hill. As they drew closer they could hear the laughter that was reverberating through its walls and sneaking out of the cracks in the doors and windows. Through the window that led to the kitchen a head of bushy brown hair was leaning over what must have ben the sink, laughing ad talking with another, older woman with flaming red hair. She looked up, spotted Draco and Astoria, and gave a small smile. Her head disappeared from the window and before Draco and Astoria had even reached the door Hermione Weasley burst through it. She wore a red muggle dress that hugged her waist and fanned out above her knees. She waved them over, her wedding band shining under the enchanted fire hanging above her. 

“You made it!” she exclaimed, and Draco thought he was going crazy because the woman actually sounded happy about it. 

“Thank you so much for inviting us,” Astoria said as the couple entered, shaking off her cloak and hugging Hermione tightly. “It was very kind of you to think of us this Christmas Eve.”

“Us old folks have to make out our own fun, now that the children are away,” Hermione said brightly, taking Astoria and Draco’s cloaks and finding that their was no coat rack, she pulled out her wand and transfigured the umbrella stand into one, hanging up their coats afterwards. “Although, mind you, knowing them I worry they’re causing more trouble around the castle.”

“Has Luna arrived yet?”

“No, she should be here with Lorcan and Lysander soon though. You know Luna, she comes and goes.”

Draco watched the women as they walked into the depths of the Weasley home, chatting happily. Hermione’s red dress complimented Astoria’s emerald dress robes as the fabrics brushed up against each other. 

“You gonna move at all tonight, Malfoy, or are you afraid we’re gonna hex you?”

Draco whipped his head around to the living room and scowled. He narrowed his eyes at Ron Weasley who was, oddly, grinning at him and waving, an odd glint in his eye that Draco could only label as amused. Draco approached Ron who was reclining on a chair, a table with a wizard chess board set on it. His opponent was a young man he’d never seen before with bright green hair. 

The young man was looking up at him, his bright grey eyes penetrating. Draco felt oddly exposed. After an awkward pause, Draco decided he probably should introduce himself, if only to lift the silence. He stuck out his hand and began, “I’m Draco Malfoy-“

“I know who you are.”

Draco’s hand hung in the air and he felt his jaw twitch. The man’s eyes changed to a bright violet. “I shouldn’t really expect you to know me. I’m Teddy Lupin. Happy Christmas cousin.” 

Teddy took Draco’s limp hand, shook it once and quickly let it go. He then turned back to his chess game with Ron, as if Draco was no longer important. Ron’s eyes gleamed as he too turned back to the game at hand. 

Draco couldn’t really think properly. His cousin’s son, a cousin he had never given much thought to, a cousin who was murdered during the war, a cousin who had had a child who had been orphaned soon after he was born, a cousin whose son was right in front of him… He had never thought of Teddy Lupin during these long years. Teddy had never crossed his mind and suddenly Draco was filled with a sense of guilt he normally didn’t feel unless he was reminded of the war. The darkness spread from his heart to his stomach and it was similar to the way Malfoy Manor made him feel, full of dread and a feeling that blood that was not his own was staining his hands. 

“Malfoy, come over here.”

Draco now turned to see Harry standing in front of a great Christmas tree near the hearth, holding a glass of eggnog in one hand. Draco, not knowing what else to do, approached Harry despite his instincts to sneer, hurl and insult, and then run off, Draco passed many adults with bright red hair on his way. Some stared at him while others blatantly ignored him. To his surprise Arthur and George Weasley waved at him as he passed. Draco saddled up to Harry and, not wanting to be the one to start conversation, looked at the tree behind him. It was covered in mismatched tinsel and ornaments, burning candles, and the very top of the tree sat an ugly gnome that had been dressed as an angel, a fake harp tied to one of his pudgy brown hands. 

“Don’t mind Teddy,” Harry said, trying to sound comforting. “I think he’s just a little… bitter.”

Draco shrugged.

“Can’t exactly blame him,” he drawled. “I never thought of him once over the years. Mother never mentioned him.”

Harry just nodded, his bright green eyes clouding over with concern. Draco knew that that look was not for him. 

“Please, be careful around him,” Harry pleaded. “You’re technically the only blood family he has besides Andromeda.”

“We both know that that doesn’t really matter to him at this point. We’ve been absent too long.”

“I just want my godson to connect with more people. I am his family, we are his family, but he has a right to know you and I know he wants too.”

Draco looked at Harry and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Deep, deep, deep down he does. Trust me,” Harry’s eyes twinkled in a way that reminded Draco of someone kept many secrets. “I am his godfather after all.”

Before Draco could even think of a proper reply heard a great whoosh coming from outside. The windows and front door of the house rattled and the occupants of the Burrow felt a chill that couldn’t be explained by the winter cold. Harry rushed to the door leaving Draco in a state of confusion. Ron had gotten up from his chess game and followed slowly behind Harry his hands stuffed awkwardly in the pockets of his robes. Hermione had left the kitchen with Astoria, Angelina, and Ginny standing in the entrance to the kitchen. They all watched the door, hesitating. 

Draco looked to his wife imploringly. She mouthed to him, “Luna.” A silence had smothered the occupants of the house, waiting with bated breath for the door to open, to give them their cues on what to do next. Harry reached the door, Ron and Hermione flanking him on other side. Harry reached for the door and yanked it open. Draco could only see his back but he had a feeling that Harry was trying to smile. 

“Luna! We’re so glad you could make it!”

Through the gaps the trio had between their heads, Draco took in the scene and his heart sank to his stomach. The chill that had enveloped the house increased tenfold as part of the occupants of the house spotted the great thestral Luna and her two sons had dismounted from. Lorcan was by his mother’s side as he watched his mother lift Lysander from the back of the dark animal and set him on the white snow that covered the garden.

Can they see it? Draco wondered, looking at children curiously. He suddenly desperately wished they couldn’t. Draco heard Teddy gasp and knew immediately that to the young man he had just seen a little by be lifted off of seemingly thin air. Draco was grateful for that. He knew the rest of the house wished that they couldn’t see the gently creature of death. It was an ugly reminder. Draco made his way slowly to the front of the living room. Luna had made it to the front door and was being embraced by the trio who awaited her. 

Luna made her way slowly into the house making her rounds around the room greeting people. Her expression was as dreamy as ever but there was no trace of her usual smile. She wore silver dress robes that looked a little wrinkled. Golden tinsel wound itself through her hair as it tied itself into a sort of fuzzy bow at the back of her head. Her earrings were made of actual holly that it looked like she had magically shrunk. 

Her two sons followed her around until suddenly one of them looked over and spotted Draco. Just as Draco had recognized this twin as Lorcan the little one, without a word, had run over to him and lifted his arms. George and Percy both made moves as if to stop the boy from hugging a venomous snake but to everyone’s surprise, sans Astoria’s and Luna’s, Draco bent down and scooped Lorcan up into his arms. 

“You’ve gotten bigger,” Draco noticed. “Used an aging potion lately?”

Lorcan shook his head furiously, stuck his tongue out at him, and then buried his head into the crook of Draco’s neck. Out of the corner of his eye Draco saw George throw his hands up and say “I’ve seen it all now!” and heard Ron’s uproarious laughter in the background. But it was Astoria’s glorious smile from the kitchen doorway that made Draco feel like he had received a stupendous Christmas present. 

Luna approached Draco and Lorcan, Lysander holding on to her left hand. Stopping in front of him she turned to Lysander and said, “Lysander how about you check around Uncle Percy for nargles. You know how they bother him and make him grumpy.” Lysander simply nodded and floated away to check Percy’s robes and curly hair for said creatures. Draco couldn’t tell if Luna had just been trying to send Lysander away for a while or if she had been serious. 

Luna turned to Draco and made eye contact with him. Draco was tempted to turn away. “Lorcan seems to like you,” she commented. “I guess that’s what happens when you abandon your boys on someone else’s doorsteps.”

Draco flinched. 

“Don’t say such things,”

“Why? It’s only the truth.”

“Believe it or not there are some truths that our children don’t need to know! Besides… they have forgiven and forgotten.”

“It’s so easy for children to do such things. But they’ll forget to forgive once they’re older and they understand what happened,” Luna’s eyes were no longer dreamy or faraway but hard and unmerciful. “Especially when their mother can’t really forgive herself.”

Draco nodded and said snidely, “If it makes you feel better, I haven’t forgiven you either. Do you know how long it had been since I handled a toddler? Made a complete fool out of myself trying to get this one to eat anything. I distinctly remember having to pretend I was a prancing hippogriff or something like that to get his mouth open long enough to stuff the food in.”

Luna laughed and it was light and beautiful and suddenly the room once again felt happy and warm and the great chill, the suspense, had finally dissipated.   
Lorcan looked up briefly at his mother, smiled, then proceeded to play with Draco’s receding hair. 

“So… you made it via thestral?” Draco asked, lifting Lorcan a little higher up his chest. 

Luna nodded and replied, “We feed the thestrals near our home. Some live around the area, and the ones who have grown up near us since they were foals like us. You can never domesticate a thestral but you can earn their loyalty. Kind of like hippogriffs, they demand a certain kind of respect.”

She grinned at him slyly and Draco scowled. 

Draco opened his mouth but hesitated. He wanted to ask, he wanted to but…

“Can they see them?” Luna asked the question for him. Sometimes he wondered if she was clairvoyant. Luna shook her head. 

“I’ve simply told them about thestrals, drew pictures. They know they are there. But they can’t see them.”

Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

“Are you guys…”

“Okay? No, not yet. But we will be.”

Draco suddenly knew they would be. The feeling of Lorcan’s arms around him, Luna’s soft face, and the strange warmth that surrounded him and constricted him in this fold of people told him so. 

“Happy Christmas Luna.”

“Happy Christmas Draco.”


	10. Encroaching Darkness

Scorpius’s fourth year was, in all respects, going rather splendidly. He was doing well in his courses (with some help from Rose in Arithmancy), The Gryffindor team was performing well, and he was still having all the mischievous fun in the world with Rose and Albus. Yes, even his correspondence with his parents was going well. It was still hard to tell them everything about his life at Hogwarts, they were his parents they didn’t need to know everything, but it was getting a little easier.

 

            _Dear Dad,_

_Quidditch season is going well this year. I expect we’ll win the Quidditch cup! I’m not trying to sound cocky, but the Ravenclaw team is quite a dud this year, and Slytherin is moderately good. Surprisingly Hufflepuff will be the team to beat, but I doubt we’ll have too much of a hard time._

_I’m doing well in my courses, although I probably could hardly make it through without Rose and Albus. Without her well-aimed kicks to our backs we’d never stay awake in History of Magic._

 

            Scorpius paused and smirked a bit at his letter. Was a little Malfoy arrogance coming out? People had always told him it would come out eventually, although, as Rose’s father would sometimes tell him, he was loads better than his father had been. It always made Scorpius laugh because although he knew his father was a bit high-minded, he could never fully imagine him as a snob at school. When he would ask Mr. Weasley about it he’d just smile vaguely and say, in an all-knowing way, “The past is in the past, as my wife would say.”

            Scorpius always found that irritating. What was so important about the past staying in the past? Shouldn’t they know the past to better rule the future? He shook the thoughts out of his blonde head. He really didn’t want to give himself a headache by thinking too deeply on a Thursday night. He dipped his quill in his pot of green ink and began to write again.

 

            _I think Rose might finally consider going out with me. I’m hoping she’ll say yes. Although Albus says he’s okay with it (even though he gags every time I talk about it) I’m trying to make sure James doesn’t find out. I’m pretty sure he’d hex me then give me a muggle style pounding just to be sure. So under no circumstances don’t tell mum, cause then she’ll tell all the Mrs. Weasley’s who will tell all the Mr. Weasley’s and one Mr. Potter, and then your son would go missing forever. You don’t want that do you?_

_Anyways, remember our incident second year? The whole talking to snakes thing? Well, Professor McGonagall thinks it’s time we master it, so we’re going into the forest tonight with Hagrid to look for snakes we can practice on. I’m hoping they’re small snakes. I’m not too keen on being eaten by a Basilisk or something._

_Your son,_

_Scorpius_

 

            Scorpius chewed on the end of his eagle feather quill, pondering his letter. Should he really tell them about the snakes? Knowing his parents his father would start hyperventilating and his mother would be irritated because she’d be the one to have to calm him down.

            “I swear sometimes your father has the disposition of a Victorian damsel in distress!” His mother had exclaimed in frustration last summer as she held a napkin to her bleeding nose while his father stuttered and waved his hands in front of her. She had been elegant reclining on the leather couch by the tall glass window that gave a view to the hill their home sat upon. Scorpius would never forget that image of her, the sun lighting up her exasperated face, and it made him smile.

            Suddenly Scorpius heard the dormitory door open and he turned his head to see Albus standing there, a nervous smile on his face. “Ready to go speak to some slimy snakes?” Albus asked.

            Scorpius snorted. “Let me send this letter off,” He replied. “And snakes aren’t slimy.”

            “That’s the Slytherin in you talking I expect!” James laughed, watching as Scorpius moved over to his Long-eared owl. The owl, Thoth, peered at Scorpius with his bright orange eyes and stuck out his leg expectantly. Scorpius busied his hands with rolling up the parchment and tying it firmly to Thoth’s leg. “There’s a bit of Slytherin in you, Albus.” he said as he picked up Thoth and carried him to the open window. The bird hooted loudly before flapping his wings and taking off into the November night sky. Scorpius stared for a moment, one of Thoth’s feathers floating down from the overcast that hung over the stars and moon.

            “Well,” Scorpius said, spinning in his heels, grabbing Albus by the shoulders and pulling him towards the door. “Shall we secret Slytherins make our way to the dark side?”

 

* * *

 

            The dark forest surrounded the trio and Hagrid, embracing them in an eerie blackness. Fang, although given a lengthened life for living in the magical world, was too old to come into the forest with them. The branches swayed in the chilly November gale and they would rock closer and closer to their heads as if seeking to snatch them from the ground.

            “Ya know, yer parents came into the forest together many times, one in particular their firs’ year… Never forget the look on Malfoy’s face…” Hagrid chuckled although he quickly stopped, looking at Scorpius and saying, “No offense lad.” Scorpius shrugged although once again he became irritated with how little he knew about his father’s school years. In fact, no one really knew about the school years of anybody who had been in the war.

            “He was only eleven,” Scorpius grumbled. “I was scared of this place… at eleven.”

            Rose turned and beamed at Scorpius. “You treated this place like your personal playground,” she said. “But it’s brave of you to say that you were a little scared.” She gave him that smile that made his heart twitch before she turned around to ask Hagrid a question.

            “So, Hagrid, where are we going?”

            “Oh, you lot are in fer a treat,” Hagrid exclaimed, a wide smile making its way through his bushy beard. “I found a nest of magical adder’s not to far from here. They’re like a normal adder except the magic of the forest has made them much bigger and their lives have been lengthened.”

            All the color drained from the trios face.

            “Um… Sounds like fun?” Albus offered weakly as he stumbled across a protruding root.

            “Yes that you would find the only poisonous snake in Britain,” Rose said.

            “That have been magically enhance!” Scorpius added.

            “That have been magically enhanced,” Rose repeated. “Yes, how fun, how lucky, Hagrid.”

            Hagrid seemed to miss the sarcasm and terror that had invaded the trio’s voices because he kept smiling and began humming a pub song that no one else particularly wanted to hear at that moment.

            After what seemed like an hour they finally arrived to a truly dark part of the forest, and the group could clearly hear the slithering and hissing of what sounded like hundreds of snakes.

            “Go on,” Hagrid said happily, pushing the trio forward with one enormous hand. “Speak to them!”

            “Ah yes, we’ll just jump right in shall we?” Scorpius drawled. Rose and Albus simultaneously elbowed him in both of his sides.

            “Oof!”

            “For that comment, Scorpius, you can go first!” Rose said, pushing Scorpius ahead of her.

            “Yes Scorpius, you’ve volunteered. Go jump right in!” Albus chimed in, giving Scorpius a little nudge.

            Scorpius glowered at the pair of cousins that were supposed to be his friends. They grinned maniacally right back at him. Scorpius sighed and turned around to face the pit of snakes. In taking a huge breath of cold air he gathered his Gryffindor courage and stepped forward. What Scorpius saw nearly made him turn tail and run back to the dormitory.

            They were adders all right but not the small adders he sometimes saw near his own home. The ones that he had been constantly told rarely attack. No, these were fifteen times the size, nearing the length and width of a very fat anaconda. Their eyes glistened in the moonlight that filtered through the trees. Their scales rubbed against each other, sliding over one another, twisting and curling until Scorpius felt like he was going to be sick.

            **_Humans_** , he heard, a hissing sound that barely sounded like English. **_I can smell them. Meat, young meat. One is old._**

            **_The big one is Hagrid_** , he heard another say, a deep, old voice. **_He is off limits. Or do you want to become a spider’s food?_**

            There was a shaking sound within the nest; many had sped up their writhing as if running in fear at the mere mention of the huge arachnids on the other side of the forest.

            **_But the young ones… There is no rule about the young ones…_**

            This caused Scorpius to speak up, “I have no desire to be food, thank you very much!”

            There was a sudden silence. The snakes stopped moving. Scorpius began to wonder if he had even spoken parseltongue… Maybe second year had been a massive fluke…

            **_You speak to us?_** The old one asked, and from the depth of the pit he saw a particularly fat adder, in the process of shedding his skin, slither up to meet him at the pits edge. His eyes were beginning to turn milky white, and when he opened his mouth his fangs were glistening. **_You understand us?_**

            “Yes,” Scorpius said, and this time it sounded more purposeful, like a hiss. “I have come to talk to you, speak your language, so I would very much like to do that instead of become your food, if you wouldn’t mind.”

            The snakes hissed but this time, instead of menacing, it sounded reassuring. **_We have rules_** , the elder said. **_We will not attack a wizard who speaks our language. From what the old tales say, your language controls us_**.

            “I do not wish to control you,” Scorpius said hastily. “I only wish to know you, and to practice.”

            The snake cocked his head to one side, studying him.

            **_The other two?_** He asked. **_Are they food or friend?_**

            “Friend!” Albus and Rose said at once, scurrying forward to meet the elder adder.

            “Definitely friend,” Albus said. “We have also come to practice.”

            “Why are you afraid of the spiders?” Rose asked curiously. “Spiders are afraid if the basilisk, so I would’ve thought they’d be afraid of all snakes.”

            There was a furious rustling amongst the snakes at the mention of the basilisk. They intertwined themselves even closer to each other and hissed, **_Fools, fools! Fools to not be afraid of such creatures!_**

            **_All creatures are afraid of the basilisk_** , the elder said, turning his head to face Rose. **_Even snakes become victim to his evil eyes and his monstrous fangs. We are normal snakes, simply empowered by the magic that surges through this forest. We might be bigger than many creatures, but the spiders are much bigger than us, and we cannot kill them with simply a look. No, to them, we are food._**

            The elder began to slither back down into the pit, still trying to shed the rest of his skin.

            **_Come back again, and please bring food with you so we are not so tempted to eat you instead_**. Albus made an audible gulp.

            “Understood,” Rose said, “We’ll see you next time.” As Albus and Rose scurried back to Hagrid, Scorpius took one last look into the pit and something caught his eyes. Amongst the many snakes slithering in the hole a shining black stone sat amongst them on the far left side. Amazingly, many of the snakes seemed to be avoiding it, leaving it in plain view.

            Scorpius didn’t know why but he felt a magnetic pull to this stone, something he felt he needed, wanted, to know from it. Without thinking he jumped into the pit of snakes, sliding amongst the scales, snake skins, mud, and bones of past meals.

            “Scorpius!” Hagrid roared. “What do ye’ think yer doing, boy?”

            “Dropped a galleon!” he yelled back.

            “A silly galleon isn’t worth your life Scorpius!” Albus yelled, running to the edge of the pit.

            “They won’t hurt me!” Scorpius said, and he was right. Rather than try to take a bite out of him the snakes merely stopped rustling and watched him as he climbed amongst them to reach the shining stone. When he picked it up he felt a strange pulse of power. He could feel Albus’s eyes on him trying to get a better view.

            “You got it, Scorpius?” he asked, his voice suspicious.

            “Yeah,” Scorpius said, hastily putting the black stone in his robes pocket. “Yeah, I got it.”


End file.
